Black as Sin, Red as Blood
by Angellina Tsaint
Summary: AU set in Las Vegas. Fayt doesn't know how to explain his dreams anymore. They're becoming more real, more alive, more frightening. When his waking life is thrown into chaos, the dreams start leading him, but to where?
1. The Nightmare Begins

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Ocean: Til The End of Time, or any lyrics within this fanfic. They belong to the people that created them - Tri-Ace and (in this chapter) The Smiths.

**Author's Note:** Well, hi. It's been ages since the last time I posted fanfiction here (almost a year, I believe), so bear with me if the coding messes up -- I'll fix it as soon as I can.

I want to mention one very important thing before the story: _I know what is going to happen._ Now, you're probably thinking "Duh, you're the author, you're SUPPOSED to know!", which is true, but I will explain why I said that. In a _lot_ of fanfics, reviewers (bless 'em) tend to ask for this or that, and sometimes get upset when the plot proves their wishes wrong. I want to say now that while I _will_ be flattered if you request things, it won't happen unless A) I get a marvellous idea from your request, or B) It was going to happen anyway. I don't mean to sound snotty, I just want to make sure everything is hunky-dory and clear before you skip the rest of what I have to say and go straight to the fic.

In case you want to ask, _yes_, there will be pairings in this. Later. Much, much later. I won't tell you (even if it may be glaringly obvious to some), but be prepared for slash, femmeslash, and het.

Lastly (I promise), you may have noticed something familiar about the story title and/or the title of this chapter (which, as it's currently a single-chaptered story, you'll have to go down a bit to see). They are titles of tracks from various videogame OSTs. Recognition will be given to whoever knows where one or the other is from.

---

_I am the son  
and the heir  
of a shyness that is criminally vulgar  
I am the son and heir  
of nothing in particular_

---

**001: The Nightmare Begins**

"Happy birthday, Fayt." said Ryoko Leingod with a smile, squeezing her son's hand gently from across the white sheeted restaurant table.

Fayt returned the smile, decidedly ignoring the brittle, harsh voice that had been in his head since the beginning of their vacation, reminding him that _just because they're with you now doesn't mean they won't get absorbed in work again, like last time -- come on, Fayt, you know they're important people. . ._

And, though true, it hurt to distrust his parent's sincerity on his nineteenth birthday. They had surprised him with the plane tickets to Las Vegas a fortnight before, claiming they'd be away for a month, and that Sophia had already been invited. . .

Fayt looked into the wavering surface of his glass of water for a second, without breaking his smile, and looked back up to her, beaming. "Thanks for this, Mom."

She laughed at the comment and released his hand, giving it a pat before he withdrew it to his side of the table. "It wasn't all my idea, you know. Your father was very keen on the idea of getting away for a while, and, well. . . when better than for you?"

His father, Robert - who sat to the right of Fayt - looked up from his menu and nodded his agreement. "Yes. . . work's been far more stressful than normal lately, but that may just be because I'm getting so old. . . you know, Fayt, I may just be needing your assistance in the lab sooner than I thought!"

_Soon?_ Fayt wondered, amazed at the words, even if they had been a simple joke.

"Of course, you'll have to be finishing college first!" his father continued, "We can't have an under trained man in the lab, even if he is a natural."

Ryoko giggled, and gave him a sharp tap on the arm. "Don't tease him like that, Robert, or he'll never believe you when he actually gets the job!"

Fayt smiled forcefully at them, and looked down at his own menu, mentally skimming over the list of Thai names and straining to read the small descriptions by the dim light. He already knew his favorite by heart - Pad Khing - but had already been told by Sophia that he had to get something new, something that 'appealed to him in a way he wouldn't have considered before', whatever that meant.

"I'll have the Tom Kha Gai," his mother announced with a tap to her menu, "but we shouldn't order until Sophia gets back. You know, it was so _nice_ of her to offer to get the drinks, but you should have gone with her, Fayt. Who knows how long the line is?"

He sighed deeply at his mother's uncanny ability to make him feel guilty about something seemingly innocuous. Sophia probably felt the same way, and would definitely be giving him grief for his ungentlemanly behavior later. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to her."

An arm brushed past his shoulder and tall glass of Coke was suddenly placed before him.

"What's this about making up?" Sophia asked, taking a moment to lean on his upper back before carefully placing the glasses of water his parents had asked for on the table.

Ryoko smiled knowingly at her. "Fayt agreed that since you went to go get the drinks, he should do something in return."

Fayt stared at her in confusion. _I did?_

"That sounds like a good idea!" Sophia laughed, and poked his cheek with a very cold finger. "Fayt, why don't you go order dinner?" Her grin seemed to be reaching past her ears, a possible trick of the light.

"Uh. . . okay?" he murmured in confused agreement, wiping the transferred moisture from face with the underside of his sleeve.

His father grabbed a serviette and, upon finding a ball-point in his jacket pocket, scrawled down 'Tom Kha Gai' and 'Nad Na'. He then slid the two items across to Fayt, who obediently took them.

"That's what your mother and I want," Robert explained, "you and Sophia should be able to come up with your own by the time you get to the counter."

Sophia reached down and plucked the serviette from Fayt's hands. "Okay, Uncle Robert, I'll make sure Fayt gets the orders right!"

"Hey!' Fayt protested, trying to swivel around to grab her, "Give that back!"

"But I'm coming _with_ you, silly!" She replied sweetly, and released the note in mid-air to flutter down to his lap.

_But. . . why would she come if this is meant to be my 'apology'?_

He didn't dwell on the thought, as the girl in question had - in what looked like a single movement - mercilessly grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and had proceeded to gently drag him towards the corner.

"So, how does it feel?' she asked when they were out of the parental hearing zone. His blank faced, silent response seemed to state an obvious "Huh?", so she endeavoured to continue. "You know. . . being nineteen. That's pretty cool, Fayt."

"Well, it's not like I really did anything, and I don't feel any different at all. But it'll probably take some getting used to when people ask my age." was that a sufficient answer? Or did she think that he'd had an overnight epiphany, and was suddenly a beacon of adult-like behaviour and grace? He had to stop himself from laughing at the idea.

Sophia frowned (so she _had_ been expecting an epiphany) at what he'd replied. "Ohhh, Fayt. You just don't get it."

"I don't get what?"

"'It!'' she huffed, "You'd be able to get it if you knew what it was."

_But how. . .?_ "Sophia, how am I supposed to get it if you don't tell me what it is?" he asked, hoping against hope that his attempt at reason would actually get the desired reply of, well, _reason._

"Ugh. I shouldn't have to tell you, Fayt. If you don't know, then there's no point," she frowned, and turned stubbornly towards the short queue in front of them.

_If I don't say anything, will she let it go? Sophia's scary when she get worked up about 'it's. . . I wonder if I can escape to the bathroom after ordering. . . _

After letting his unknown faux pas slide for a few silent minutes, Sophia piped up again as the person in front of them stepped ahead to order. "It's really impolite to ignore a lady, Fayt. Especially one you've just semi-insulted. You could at least apologize, geez!"

_Apologize? For what, not being able to read her mind when she's cranky?_

"Well. . .' he mumbled to himself, trying to think of something that would sate her. "How about that book my dad gave me last month? You know, the psychology one you've always loved?"

She nodded, "Yeah, what about it?"

"You can have it? If you, uh, want to?" he offered weakly, hoping she'd accept the peace offering at face value.

With a roll of her eyes, she pushed Fayt forward, barely missing the person walking away. "What_ever_, it's obvious you're just doing this to be a suck-up."

"What else am I supposed to-- oh, sorry," he had noticed, mid-sentence, the woman behind the cash register frowning at him, "we're at table 14 and we want the-" a quick glance down at the serviette "-Tom Kha Gai, Nad Na, Pad Khing and. . .?"

"And the Pad Thai." Sophia finished, still looking up at the blackboard menu as if she were about to suddenly change her mind.

The woman carefully wrote each one down and put the table number at the bottom of the small notepad page. "Thanks." She murmured busily, and Fayt got the hint that they should go back to their table.

He would have, if not for the coin game he spotted nearby, gleaming with what he could only call a 'true calling', fluorescent lights and other more logical explanations be damned.

"No, Fayt. You know that those things just suck the money right out of you until you're handing in twenty dollar bills for small change!' Sophia snapped, grabbing his wrist roughly. "Come on, don't you want to keep your money?"

At the mention of what happened every time he played coin games, he blanched (slightly) at the idea of willing to do it again. But. . . this time, he was actually going to win. . . he could feel it, like a bee caught in his spine, slowly and carefully making its way up to his brain where he'd get the ultimate, perfect strategy, and an incredible mountain of wealth. Though, knowing Sophia, she'd still call him on the ridiculousness of it, no matter how rich he could become in a mere matter of minutes.

"Come on, Sophia. . . how about just for a few minutes? We can have a few turns each."

She stared at the machine for a few moments, obviously in some sort of moral battle over the evils of 'gambling'. "Oh. . . all right, Fayt, but only for a few minutes, and I won't be the one explaining to your mom and dad why you're broke tomorrow."

He nodded, not at all surprised she'd caved so quickly. "Of course! I'm old enough to take responsibility for my own choices, aren't I?"

"'Responsibility', huh?" Sophia laughed, "You mean like how responsible you were this morning when Aunt Ryoko asked who'd eaten all the pillow mints?"

_But that wasn't me!_ He fought back the urge to say, but common sense prevailed; if they got into an argument, then he'd never get to try the game.

As he lay in bed that night, Fayt couldn't help but dwelling on the fact that he'd lost a good amount of money - at least twenty dollars - and hadn't gained a cent.

_Sophia was right, wasn't she?_ the little voice in his head (the one that had, irritatingly enough, not decided to act as conscience when he'd first chosen to play) said softly, in a voice not unlike that of a tragic amnesiac from a soap opera.

At least his parents hadn't been too angry. They'd agreed with his previous 'old enough to take responsibility' reasoning: a train of thought that he'd recently lost faith in, and had all but told him that if he wanted more money for the rest of the holiday, he'd have to earn it. He would've objected, but the food had arrived, and who was he to stall his own birthday dinner?

Other than that 'minor' incident, however, the entire night had gone great. In a move unexpected of them - but how was he supposed to know what they were like out of work? - his parents had given him his birthday gifts right there in the restaurant after they ate.

A beautiful gold watch from his mother ("It used to be your grandfather's," she'd said with a sad smile), a strange book of 'definitions' from his father (no explanation had been given there), and a small assortment of things from Sophia that, while strange, had obviously been given thought to; a t-shirt with a picture of a cat and paw prints, a bottle of cologne, and a set of hand-woven gift cards ("I saved over a thousand square feet of rainforest by buying that!" she'd exclaimed after noticing his 'what on _earth_?' expression).

He felt bad for wondering how much thought his parents had put into their own gifts, and blamed the little voice in his head (not the reasonable one, the one that had been out all that day) for making him think in such a way. It was amazing enough that they had any time for him, given the extremely taxing work they were in. One day, he would be the same, with maybe even his own son lying in bed, wondering if 'Dad' would be able to see him in the basketball semi-finals.

"Hey, Fayt?" Sophia had called early that morning (6 AM or so, according to the microwave), "My dad just called. He says that your parents have to work an extra shift today, so they're not going to be able to make it to the game."

He'd just nodded at the phone, still half awake and half wondering if he was dreaming or not. It was still understandable - his parents (along with Sophia's father Dr. Esteed) had been working on something for the past few months, and taking time off work to see a kid's basketball game would be so unprofessional. . .

That was why he respected his father so much; he was so dedicated, hardworking. Even if he couldn't be there, Fayt knew that he'd ask about it when he called that evening, asking for every detail regardless of the sheer tiredness that would be evident in his voice.

The team hadn't actually won (one of their best players, Hedge, had strained his ankle and Wilbur had taken his place, so a loss had been inevitable), but they'd given the game their all, and the other team had congratulated them for it.

But when his father didn't call that night, he didn't mind. He'd done everything he knew that would be worth retelling, and that. . . well, work was work was work, wasn't it? It had to be tough, taking a few minutes to act in a fatherly manner, then having to resume the persona of a diligent scientist.

Fayt had never resented his father. Not then, with the apparent forgetting of an important game, and not when he'd been placed second highest academically (another unattended event), not ever.

_As charming a thought this is,_ the little dark voice mused in its little dark corner, _I doubt the ceiling cares._

Even though it annoyed him, it was right in a way. Lying awake thinking about things he'd thought of before to the point of mental exhaustion would not make for being refreshed when he had to wake tomorrow. They had places to visit, things to buy (the others did, not him), landmarks to see. . .

He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to push the darkness of sleep into his mind via his eyelids. It had never really worked for him before (counting sheep and mentally reciting tongue twisters hadn't either), but it was worth trying.

---

"Fayt, what did you write?" asks Mrs. Weste, leaning over his desk and looking at him curiously.

"I wrote about what I'm going to be when I grow up!" he replies cheerfully, and holds up the piece of paper for her to see, incredibly proud of himself. "I wrote a lot!"

She smiles, "You sure did, Fayt! This is very good for someone your age. . . you want to work with your dad, hmm? That's a very nice thing of you to do, offering to take over for him when he retires." having finished reading, she gives the paper one of her so shiny silver stars (her take on the common gold ones).

"I'm going to be even better than him, too!"

Mrs. Weste pats him on the head. "If you set your mind to it, you can do absolutely anything, Fayt."

_you will soon_

He's still in the classroom, still at his desk, but Mrs. Weste is gone and so is everyone else. He feels like he's been asleep for such a long time, but the clock hasn't changed.

_it's broken_

He wonders if he was just allowed to stay there and sleep while everyone went out to play. He wants to play too, he wants to go and find Sophia and show her that he got a silver star and she'll be so envious, because all her class gets is the plain gold stars.

_it's gone_

He grasps at the table numbly, wondering who took it, maybe Mrs. Weste has it and forgot to give it back? No, she never forgets anything ever, she always beats the class in games of Memory, and even though she's so good she gives them all chocolate for trying.

_it's outside_

He looks to the door but doesn't ask himself why the hallway's so dark, why everyone's gone, because it's dark outside too. And why did he sleep so long, it was nice of them to let him sleep but he can't walk home in the dark. . .

_it's waiting_

. . .or can he? He nervously gets up and is so relieved when the floor doesn't creak like it normally does, and he tiptoes to the open door anyway: feels somehow proud of himself for making it all the way into the main hallway when he looks back into the classroom and no, it's not a classroom anymore, what is it

_it's starving_

nothing, nothing, it's nothing, there's nothing there except stars, lots and lots of little silver and gold stars, pricking holes in the darkness around him, each color leading in a different direction, silver to the left, gold to the right

_it's beautiful_

he has to go the silver way, because he doesn't want gold, because gold. . . gold, gold is

_it's better_

the best, the best like the other team who deserved to win, the trophy they never got is right there on the gold path but he really, really doesn't want it, he never has

_it's right_

he doesn't want the trophy or the stars or the other shiny, beautiful things associated with gold, because silver's just as good, it's better. And there's the most ethereally beautiful angel he's ever seen on the path of silver stars, robed and floating, six wings supporting its frail and somehow inhuman body

_it's calling_

it looks as if it's about to fall, to collapse from the weight of the material it wears, and he wants to help it, damn all the gold to hell, so he runs

_and he runs_

and he runs, runs, runs; his legs don't hurt at all and he could keep running forever, he can even hear people cheer him on, to keep running. Sophia's standing nearby, waving and yelling his name, but-

she's not cheering, she's screaming, he realises, screaming for him to stop

_it's. . . it's. . . almost. . ._

he can't stop yet, though, because he has such a long way to go and he doesn't want the angel to get hurt, he'll run as far as he has to until

_it's found you._

He's outside now, needlessly gasping for breath on the steps, and slumps down, realising the angel is gone and so is Sophia and the stars and the gold and the silver, and he'd only barely started in the direction he truly, truly wanted, but hadn't gone far enough so they'd make him pursue gold.

The paper he'd been so proud of drifts to lie on the ground beside him, the words the same but the handwriting different, grown-up handwriting like Mrs. Weste's, but it's nowhere hear as neat as hers and

_it's mine_

he realises. It's his handwriting, it's his very own grown-up handwriting because that's what he is now: a grown-up, with his very own thoughts and feelings and emotions that belong to grown-ups, but his life. . .

_Why_ is his life so. . . so blindingly gold. . .

---

Fayt found himself awake moments before there was a loud knocking on the door, "Fayt, hey, Fayt! Good morning!"

Sophia's voice rang through the room, barely dulled by the thick wood it had permeated. She knocked again, and he groaned, tempted to ignore her and pretend he was dead or something equally unresponsive and be allowed his peace.

"Fayt, come on!" she yelled again, "We'll miss breakfast with your mom and dad if you don't hurry!"

_Can't you just go on your own?_ He rolled over and found himself once again staring at the ceiling, recalling the previous night's thinking and doubting and generally just depressing himself to the point of bizarre and possibly insane dreams.

"I'll be there in a second!" he yelled back, "You don't have to wait for me!"

"Okay! See you!" and she was gone, footsteps padding away from the door, finally leaving him be.

_Come on then, Fayt. Get dressed. If you're late, then karma's going to make it bacon and egg day, and won't you feel like such an idiot when you get down there and everyone else has got the really crispy bits and left the soggy ones for slackers like you?_

With the most energetic movement he could muster, Fayt zombied his way out of the incredibly comfortable bed and onto the much less so comfortable floor, keeping himself steady as his left foot suddenly decided it had pins and needles.

_It figures. . ._ he thought dully, and sat back on the bed to rub the offending foot into the Land of the Living (or at least the Land of Suitable Comfort and Feeling).

Part of him sorely wished that he could just forget he had to do anything that day, and return to bed.

But he'd always been too scared of soggy bacon.

---


	2. Fading Consciousness

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Ocean: Til The End of Time, or any lyrics within this fanfic. They belong to the people that created them - Tri-Ace and (in this chapter) Bloc Party.

**Author's Note:** So, I guess I lied again, huh? I promise to write and now, months later, I finally post something. The funny thing is, I'd written this chapter in August. Why didn't I post it then? I really don't know. But now, I look back over this and the first chapter, and I'm very pleased with my writing. Chapter Three should be coming in reasonable time. 

---  
_A pillar of salt, a box of want  
You were pulled out of the embers  
It was never my intention  
All the clouds are black_  
---

**002: Fading Consciousness**

"Okay, who wants to play 'I Spy'?" Robert asked, briefly glancing from the road to Ryoko, who looked up from the romance novel she'd been reading.

"Oh? Well, I suppose that sounds like fun!" she replied somewhat eagerly, and folded over the page she was on. "Fayt, Sophia, are you two interested?"

Sophia clapped her hands. "Yeah!" The level of enthusiasm would have been easily mistaken for sarcasm if her expression (a wide, almost luminescent grin) hadn't been so earnest. "Faaayt, you'll play too, _right_?"

Fayt shrugged, taking a moment to wipe the sleep from his right eye before leaning back in his seat to continue dozing. "I. . . ah, I don't know. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Oh, _really_? Whose fault might _that_ be, then?" she growled, and jabbed him in the arm with what felt like a very sharp nail.

He winced, but laughed sheepishly. "Mine. . . I was thinking about-" he paused, "-er, things, and I ended up dreaming about them. It was weird, like some sort of drug induced hallucination."

"What's drug induced?" Robert asked, obviously only having heard the last few words because of parental hearing.

Fayt shook his head. "It was just a comparison, Dad. I had a nightmarish dream last night."

"You had a nightmare, Fayt?" Ryoko asked softly, turning to look over her shoulder at him.

"No. . . well, not exactly, but I don't know how else to describe it."

_The voice I heard. . . it was like a heartbeat. . ._ he thought, recalling the most vivid part of the dream. _It wasn't just one, though. . . it was as if a hundred people were talking at once. . ._

"Fayt! Stop spacing out!" Sophia barked with a tug to his hair.

"Ow! Sophia!"

She sighed and let go, then tightly folded her arms across her chest. "You have to start."

"At what? . . . Oh! The game! Uh, okay. Sure." Fayt looked out at the scenery of the city, frowning as he found nothing interesting to rest his eyes on. "I spy. . . something beginning with 'W'."

Sophia bit her lip in thought. "'W'... 'wings'?"

"Nope."

"Um... 'wheels'?"

"Sorry."

"'Wire'?" his father offered, "But just how many things start with 'W', anyway?"

Fayt shrugged, and kept his face to the side so they wouldn't see his grin. "You'll see."

"'White'?" Sophia clicked her tongue, "What _else_ is there to guess? 'Walls'?"

He fought down the urge to chuckle. "No, and no. It's really pretty simple, Sophia. . . you'll be kicking yourself when I tell you what it is."

"Ugh! Don't tell me _yet_, you egghead! I just need some more time!"

---

He opens his eyes and it's night; he can tell that much. The car is still, and everyone else is fast asleep, lying perfectly motionless in their seats.

Regardless, Fayt leans forward to tap his father's arm. "Dad?" he asks quietly, nudging the man's shoulder, "Dad, where are we?"

The man doesn't respond.

_Right. . . he's asleep._ He looks across at Sophia. _Her, too?_ Something doesn't feel right to him. It might be the cold or the air or something else, but it's something, and whatever it is may be potentially dangerous.

Sophia mumbles something in her sleep, and a dark liquid starts to trickle from the corner of her mouth, pausing at the curve of her chin for a few moments before dripping to land on her neck, pooling in shadow below her ear.

_That's not important._

He tenses and shivers at the sensation he feels in his head, words pressing into his brain and being absorbed, deeper and _deeper_ into his subconscious until there's absolutely nothing left except --

_Stop. Do as I tell you._

His thoughts and body obey, locking in place as they patiently wait for more words to form.

_She is dead. They all are._

. . . No. He can see her soft breathing hang in the air, little clouds of moisture indicating that there's no way she could be dead if she's so very obviously alive.

_This is a test, Fayt. You have no time to worry about her._

Moonlight floods the car like spotlights from all directions, creating millions of shadows in their path as his eyes burn from the brightness.

_Close them. You don't have to see anymore._ He does so, and it all finally makes sense. He knows why he's here and why they're all dead and why Sophia looks alive and what the dark liquid is. He doesn't know the words for them, but he doesn't need words right now. He's never felt so calm; it's amazing.

"fA-Yt."

The voice shakes him and breaks the understanding he's only just obtained. The light disappears, and he's left utterly alone, save the bodies of Sophia and his parents.

"Fa-yt."

Ta-dum. Ta-dum. His heart gently speaks to him, its voice pushing away everything that had been around him before, purging the words of the other voice from his mind. Each heartbeat is somewhat slower than the last, preparing for a possible shutdown. But he can't let that happen, there must be something left for him to --

"Fayt!"

---

"Fayt! Wake up!"

Fayt opened his eyes to see his father above him, shaking him roughly with a fearful determination.

"Dad. . .?" He sat up, noticing that at some point he'd been moved from the car to a wooden bench. "Dad, what's going on?"

Robert stepped back, and sighed deeply. "You passed out in the car, Fayt. We weren't able to get any response out of you for at least an hour."

"What, an _hour_! That can't be right!"

He was answered by a grim look. "Sophia nearly had a heart attack. She thought you'd died."

_Oh, the irony!_ the bitter voice quipped for the first time that day, _Because, you know, how in that dream or whatever you thought that it was her dead!_

"Where is she?" Fayt asked and hung his head, staring down at the buttons on his shirt. "She's not too worried, is she?"

Someone hugged him around the waist from behind. "Not any more," Sophia whispered, "but. . . Fayt, I was so scared. . ."

He rested his hand over hers. "I'm sorry. But, I did tell you I was tired, didn't I?"

". . . Yeah, I guess you did." she released him, allowing him to swing his legs off the bench and stand up, albeit unsteadily. "By the way, Fayt?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Um. . . what was the word?" Sophia looked away meekly. 

Fayt laughed. "It was 'window'. As in, the _car_ window." 

There were several seconds of pure silence as she stared at him, agape. Then, without a word, she clenched her hands into tight fists and stomped towards the car. "Oh, Fayt, you. . .!" 

Robert looked down at Fayt, one eyebrow raised. "Maybe you should give her a few minutes to cool off." 

". . . Good idea." 

---

After they were back in the car, Fayt had been returned to the hotel with orders to 'get some sleep or never see the light of day again during this trip'. He'd taken the threat seriously, and actually _had_ managed to sleep -- for a short while, after which he was wide awake, and dully pacing the room. 

_Maybe I should tell Mom about what I've been dreaming. . . she might be able to make some sense of it. . ._ He sighed, and flopped into one of the many plush armchairs lining the walls. _But what if she just thinks I'm crazy, or stressed? Though. . . I might be. . . stressed, that is._

The irony was clear to him -- he was in Las Vegas and he was _bored_. If he had any money left, the situation may have been otherwise, but no, his good judgement had deserted him and left him to metaphorically rot in his hotel room. Not that it wasn't a nice room, but there was just so much roominess he could handle. 

Several empty hours later, a sharp and excited banging on the door alerted him to the fact that his parents and Sophia had returned. 

"Fayt! Fayt!" he heard the girl squeal from the other side of the door, "Get up! I've got so much to tell you! We went to Madame Tussaud's and it was _so awesome_ and you would've loved it and-" 

Fayt opened the door, stopping her sentence dead in its tracks. "You know, Sophia, if I'd been asleep, I would be _very irritated_ right now." 

Sophia rocked on the balls of her feet. "I knowww, you get all cranky when people wake you up. But! That doesn't matter right now, I have so much to tell you. . .! Oh, I _love_ this city!" 

_That makes one of us, then,_ he thought glumly. _Wasn't this supposed to be a vacation for me, anyway?_

"Come on, Fayt! We're going to be having dinner in the downstairs restaurant tonight!" She tugged on his arm, but he pulled it back. 

"I don't know if I'm hungry, Sophia. . ." 

"Of course you're hungry! And. . . it's a smorgasbord! You love those! Come oooon!" 

He grinned at her particularly lame attempt to entice him down to dinner. "All right, Sophia. . . I'll come. I'll come and have dinner and listen to everything you have to say about your time without me!" 

"Yay!" Sophia hugged his arm, and subsequently started dragging him towards the elevator, already beginning her spiel about how things were, and how nice and peaceful. . . 

---

"Fayt, she convinced you to come down?" Ryoko looked up from a half-eaten plate of bow tie pasta to the two. "I thought you'd still be asleep. . ." 

Fayt shook his head, and took a seat at the table. "I didn't actually get much sleep, anyway. I was wide awake when she started banging the door down, thankfully enough." 

"I was not banging it down!" Sophia hissed at Fayt, and sat at the other end of the table, glaring at him all the while. "You weren't meant to be awake, anyway. The only reason we left you here was so that you could, you know, _sleep_. Remember what that is?" 

Ryoko laughed at their 'antics'. "Sophia, why don't you go get yourself something to eat? I want to quickly talk to Fayt about something." 

Sophia nodded and curtly got up, poking her tongue out at Fayt before turning to walk away. 

He stared after her for a few moments before turning his attention to his mother. "What is it you want to talk to me about, Mom?" 

"It's nothing important, but. . . are you feeling ill?" she asked, putting a hand to his forehead. "You feel a little warm." 

"No, I feel fine. It's just. . . my sleep's been weird. But it's nothing to worry about. Probably caused by something like stress or school." 

She smiled, looking grateful to have heard his answer. "That's good. . . if there was anything wrong, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?" 

"Of course I would, Mom. I'm fine." he then glanced around, "Uh, where's Dad? Is he getting his dinner, too?" 

"Well, yes, but he should be back by now. . . he went to get his around the same time Sophia went to go get you." 

He blinked. "Really? And when did you get yours?" 

"Soon after he did." 

Fayt leaned back, frowning. "That's. . . that's weird." 

Ryoko didn't reply for a little while. "Fayt, there's something I have to tell you about-" 

The hall was thrown into pitch darkness. Chaos erupted in a matter of seconds. 

"-Oh, no, not _now_. . ." He heard his mother whisper, accompanied by a similar, harsher word that he'd never heard her say before. 

"Mom? You know what's going on?" Fayt asked quietly, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness to see her. 

"Stay here, Fayt. . . no, hide under the table. I need to go. Don't talk to anyone, even if it's Sophia." Ryoko slid carefully out of her seat, making sure her movements couldn't be heard over the roar of the scared tourists. 

"But, Mom-" 

"I love you, Fayt. Your father does, too." She was suddenly gone, not even bothering to reach for her jacket or handbag and instead rushing off to do something obviously important- but what? 

She'd told him to get under the table, but why? What was going to happen? What was that clanking noise he could hear from outside the hall- 

**"People of the Hyda IV hotel."**

A mechanical voice boomed over what sounded like an amplified loudspeaker. 

**"Harm will not come to those who co-operate with our wishes."**

Silence reigned over the confusion and panic. 

**"Do not hinder us. We are here for a reason. We are the Vendeeni. We have no desire to do anything other than what we were commanded."**

_The Vendeeni? Aren't they some sort of terrorist gang!_ Fayt felt his heart leap into his throat, beating wild a wild thunder that was so loud it almost deafened him. _. . . Hide under the table. She told me to hide under the table. . . _

His entire body shaking but obeying, he managed to crawl from his chair to underneath the table, and gently tugged the long cloth back into place, shielding him from all sides. 

**"I repeat, harm will not come to those who co-operate with our wishes!"**

Loud, clanky footsteps, coming in through lots of doors and there were so many-- 

A gunshot. Someone screamed. And something fell to the ground with a hard _thud_. 

**"Do not hinder us!"**

The only thing talking now was the supposed person with the loudspeaker, from wherever they were. 

_. . . You know, you really should've just stayed in bed._ The voice said, sounding somewhat entertained by the situation. _I wonder who the screamer was, anyway? It almost sounded like Soph-_

"Shut _up_." Fayt whispered under his breath, "Shut up. Shut up. . ." he gulped in a mouthful of air, trying his hardest to ignore his all-over shivering. 

_And what was it your mom knew? Why couldn't she have told you sooner? Just what the hell is going on here, huh?_

He shut his eyes. _I don't know_. He thought in response. I just don't know. Nothing could make this make sense. 

_Well,_ the voice said after a few moments, _you can't help but wonder, right? Maybe your mom's a member. Maybe your dad, even!_

Fayt took another deep breath. If he calmed himself, then the voice would subside and he'd be able to think of a possible plan. 

_How about the 'Get the Hell Out of Here' plan? That's a good plan. It's very structured -- you see, the idea is to **get the hell out.** You'd be surprised how many people aren't able to understand that. . . like, well, whoever just got shot. What an idiot._

He shook his head to clear it of the voice's influence. There was no proof someone had just been shot. No proof at all. Something could've just fallen over. A chair. A table. Someone could have fainted from shock. 

_Explain the gunshot then, Mr. Logic._

How had this happened? _Why_ had this happened? This. . . this wasn't right. Was he really in some sort of seige? Was he? Or was this another dream? It had to be. Another dream. There was no way such a thing could actually happen, no. . . 

_Oh, come on, Fayt. You're losing it. Keep your damn head together!_

Fayt gulped down the rising bile. Even though it was horribly cruel and annoying, the voice was right in at least the sense that he couldn't freak out, not in the middle of such a situation -- be it real or imaginary. 

That didn't mean he couldn't hope it was imaginary, though. . . 

A person walking by the table grabbed his attention. 

"Did you find anything?" Someone whispered, "Or is there nothing over there, too?" 

"Affirmative. If there's anything to be found in here, it's escaped," another person replied, "I don't know how, though. Bastards." 

"Is anyone checking the rooms?" the first asked, "Or haven't we secured them yet?" 

"Oh, we've secured them, but some of the security is being a pain in the ass. We'll be able to check soon, though." 

Fayt shivered again, but didn't _dare_ move. If he did, then. . . what would happen? Would he die? Would one of the Vendeeni discover him and shoot him right where he hid? 

_Mom. . ._ he thought sadly, _are you okay? Is Dad okay? Sophia. . . Sophia, I'm sorry about getting you so mad. . . I hope you're all safe. . . _

And if they're not? The voice asked roughly, What're you going to do then, hmm? 

Fayt chose not to listen. The last thing he needed was doubt. His mother, father, and Sophia would _all_ be all right, he knew they would be. 

---

"Faaaayt? Hey, Faaaaaaaayt! Wake uuuup!" 

Fayt woke to a blinding sun right above. "Argh..." he mumbled, raising an arm to shield himself from the light. ". . . Hey, where am I?" 

Sophia was sitting beside him, watching him with an amused look on her face. "We're in a forest, silly. Don't you remember?" 

"No. . ." 

"Oh, I bet it's just the heat getting to you. You'll remember everything soon enough," she stood, and dusted off her skirt, "Come on, then. Let's go swimming!" 

"What? Swimming?" He asked, completely confused. 

"Yeah, swimming! It's only the entire reason we came here, but you just _had_ to take a nap, didn't you?" She flicked his right ear. "I bet the water's _fantastic_." She then ran off to somewhere -- wherever the water was, obviously. 

After rubbing his ear, he got up to follow her, though at a slower pace. "It's. . . it's really peaceful here. . ." he whispered, in awe of the beautiful surroundings. 

"Isn't it just? I love it here, Fayt. I'm glad you like it, too." Sophia turned around and smiled at him, then resumed skipping along the wide path before them. 

"Sophia. . . I don't think this is right." 

"Huh? What do you mean, Fayt? What's wrong with this place?" 

He sighed, and knelt down to feel the grass. "As wonderful as this is - and I mean it, it's _really_ wonderful here - I think. . . I think this is just a dream. I've fallen asleep and this is my subconscious' way of calming me down." 

Sophia walked towards him, clearly sad. "So. . . you want to wake up, is that it?" It pained him to hear the sorrow in her voice. "Fayt, if you wake up, who knows when we'll see each other again?" 

"I. . . I wish I knew. I'm sorry, Sophia. . . I don't want to leave, but I can't stay. This isn't _real_." He stood and held her by the shoulders before drawing her into a comforting hug. "But that isn't to say I don't want to be with the real you." 

She sniffled, and tightly hugged him back. "Will you find me, Fayt?" 

He nodded. "Yeah. I'll find you." 

"Do you promise?" 

"Of course." 

---

There was a sharp pain in his side, caused by his awkward sleeping position. His left arm was pressed to the ground by his tucked up legs, and he could feel pins and needles ranging from above his elbow to the tips of his fingers. He wiggled them in front of his eyes, seeing creases made in the skin by his jeans-- 

_Wait. The darkness is gone. . ._ he was surprised he'd only just noticed that. _Does this mean. . . are the Vendeeni gone, too?_

Fayt pushed his head out from under one side of the tablecloth. The entire hall was empty of people, but showed the obvious signs of a struggle. Some chairs were tipped over, there were broken glasses in various places, in a pool of the liquid that had once been inside. . . and in some places, there was blood. 

But as much as he could strain his eyes, there were absolutely no people to be seen. Was that a good thing, or a bad one? No people could mean that they'd all been taken to safety. . . or alternatively, they'd all been killed. 

_How on earth did I sleep through it all so quickly?_ He wondered, taking the initiative to get up from his now unnecessary hiding place. 

"Hello?" He called out, "Is there anyone in here?" 

"Yeah. You could say there's someone." 

Fayt spun around to see a tall, muscled blonde man walking towards him. "You're Fayt, right? Fayt Leingod?" 

"Who are you!" Fayt demanded, "I won't tell you who I am unless-" 

"Hey, hey! Relax, kiddo. I'm not one of those Vendeeni guys." The man stopped a few feet from where Fayt was. "My name's Cliff Fittir. I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to get you out of this mess. It looks like you could use the help, too -- I don't know if you've noticed, but I've seen drunk men with less bloodshot eyes than yours." 

Fayt laughed uneasily, and collapsed into the chair behind him. "Well. . . what can I say, Mr. Fittir? Something insane just happened while I was under there-" he indicated weakly to the table, "- and when I get out, I'm approached by someone who looks sinister and thuggish. . ." 

"Whaaat? Me, sinister and _thuggish_? Jeez, kid, if it wasn't my job to find you you'd be getting a beating for that!" 

_Job? . . . Hadn't the Vendeeni been looking for someone for their 'job'. . .?_

". . . You're one of the Vendeeni, aren't you?" Fayt glared up at the man, "You must be!" 

Mr. Fittir rolled his eyes. "Such a drama queen. . . _listen_. I only just showed up here, I don't know what went down or why. I was sent here to find you and make sure you were safe, and look! You are! So why don't you just tone down the paranoia a little and come with me, okay?" 

"No! I can't leave! What about my mom, my dad, and Sophia!" 

The man shrugged. "Hell if I know what's happened to them. Not my problem, really." 

Fayt gripped the seat of his chair firmly. "I'm not going _anywhere_. Just leave me alone." 

"_Fine_, kid, have it your way..." the man sighed. "Mirage, you know what to do." 

Something banged on his head, and everything went black. 

---


End file.
